Drawing his handkerchief from his pocket, he blew his nose and got back to work. After the grave was filled, he covered it with several large rocks and dragged over some deadfall to protect it from predators. Mounting awkwardly with the shovel, he started for the house. Mama cow picked up her head to watch him with large cocoa-colored eyes. She swished her tail, twitched an ear. Her lonely moo echoed his own feelings. After a moment, she lowered her muzzle back to the grass and resumed grazing.
***
Evie strolled along the wagon trail, letting her problems ease away like birds flying off into the sky. She took a deep breath of air into her lungs. Clean and fresh, it went straight to her heart. How could anyone feel down on a day as beautiful as this? The tails of her cotton shirt bobbed around her hips and she’d had to roll the cuffs of her trousers so they wouldn’t drag. But boy, were her new garments comfy. Without the yards of fabric swishing around her legs, she felt freer than she ever had.
She’d traveled a good thirty minutes. She was so far out now, she couldn’t even see the homestead. From her couple of trips into town, if her memory served her correctly, it wouldn’t be long before she reached the drop box.
That thought led her back to her quiet ride home last night with Chance. The resigned tilt of his strong jaw. The letter in her hand suddenly felt heavy. Had she overreacted by sending this too soon? Maybe she was exaggerating. Maybe Chance wasn’t feeling well the last couple of days. Perhaps men were more different than she realized. Moody. Temperamental. She really didn’t have anything to compare him to. Whatever the reason, she was tired of trying to figure him out. The exertion, change of scenery, and the soft breeze stirring the trees had lifted her heart so much she wondered if she was making something out of nothing. Next week, if she was still here, Ina had promised to teach her how to make a succulent roast with all the fixings, sure to melt any man’s heart. Perhaps she had better get over there today.
“There it is,” she said aloud. “That wasn’t far at all.” Several trips up and down the stairs in the Victorian tired her out more.
No sooner had she checked the box out thoroughly for any sign of creatures, webs, or scary things, and slipped the letter through a narrow slot in the side of the wood, then the sound of thundering hooves pounding her way brought her head snapping up.
Twirling around, she found Chance barreling down on her as if demons were on his tail. His horse flew over the ground as Chance leaned forward over his neck. He reined the gelding to a stop and swung from the saddle. In two strides he was at her side, wrapping her in his arms. When she tried to pull back so she could see his face, he crushed her to him.
She pushed on his chest, straining to get a breath of air. “Chance, what is it?”
He trembled, but stayed silent, holding her close and making all the worry and pain from yesterday dissolve into a mist of happiness. Whatever had changed his heart, she was so happy she felt weak. “What?”
His arms finally loosened and he took a step back, letting her see his face. The reins of his horse hung limp in his fingers.
Dexter, his tongue lolling from the side of his mouth, finally caught up. The dog’s expression was one of pure indignation at being taxed to his limit. He flopped on the grass and promptly closed his eyes.
“Chance? Tell me this instant.”
“Nothing. Just found you gone. Wasn’t sure if you’d finally—” He stopped. Looked away.
“What?”
“Packed up and left.”
She couldn’t understand why he’d think that. “My things are all still in the house.”
“Once I found you gone, I didn’t take the time to look. Just jumped on my horse and followed you.”
She reached up and touched his face, tenderly. Were these tears?
He tried to look away.
“Chance?”
“I…” He swallowed and looked into her eyes. “We—lost a calf sometime last night.”
The wind blustering in the trees, and Boston’s labored breathing were the only sounds.
“I’m so sorry, Chance.”
“That’s not the only reason,” he said, emotions clouding his face. “I couldn’t live if you left me, Evie.” He cleared his throat. “I just couldn’t.”
What a wonderful, complicated man she’d married! He was granite hard and as tough as nails—but could shed a tear over love. Her hand lingered, cupping his cheek. “Chance,” she whispered. “I’m sorry for whatever it is I’ve done. I’d never want to hurt you. Or make you angry as I did yesterday. All I want is to be your partner, take care of you, be a help, not a hindrance. But mostly, and from the bottom of my heart, for now and for always, I want to be your wife, the mother to your children.” Her face warmed as she prepared to say what was really in her heart. “To be your love.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
CHANCE’S EYES pierced hers hungrily. He wrapped her in his arms and pulled her close. As his lips lowered, she realized for one enticing moment that he was going to kiss her. Flames ignited between them that had nothing to do with the weather.
Tingles raced through her body, marking her, changing her, stealing her breath. He tasted of wind and sun and broken hearts. His kiss asked for forgiveness, loyalty, love. She felt his regret over their argument—regret as strong as her own. When his lips ventured down to taste her neck, heat like warm, flowing honey, seeped into her veins. Daring chased away her skittering heart and she tipped her head back boldly, giving him greater access.
“I’m sorry too,” he said against her neck, then took a breath. He spoke so softly she thought it might have been the wind. “I—” His voice faltered. “I got crazy jealous over you spending time with that Hayden Klinkner. Made up all sorts of foolish stories in my head that you’d gone over to Ina’s to see him.”
Evie couldn’t stop her small gasp of astonishment. “No!”
A moment passed. She gave him a little shake, pulling back just far enough to see one corner of his mouth twitch up and his color deepen. “Are you serious?”
“Yes,” he said sheepishly. His hat was like a canopy, shielding them from the world. His eyes dropped to her mouth and her insides flamed, hungering for something she’d never had. She went up on tiptoe, boldly pressing her lips to his, loving their warmth, softness, and most certainly not ready to relinquish this intoxicating man. “I’d never do a thing like that. I’m your wife, Chance Holcomb. It will take a lot more than that man to get rid of me.”
Right then a gust of wind rocked his hat and, in a gale of laughter, they both reached up to stop it from sailing off.
Dexter, refreshed from his short nap, pranced between their legs as if not wanting to be left out of the fun.
“Storm’s coming.” Chance looked up at the sky, then back toward the ranch. He still held her in his arms. “We should probably get back.”
She nodded, liking the way his gaze warmed her face, melted her insides. A smile pulled at his lips. Just as he drew her close and lowered his head for another kiss, a crackling light flashed over the mountains, breaking their union. A low, deep rumbling from afar warned of the approaching tempest.
Indeed, dark, brooding clouds had replaced the fluffy ones she’d enjoyed on her walk here. They glided across the sky like the massive seagoing schooners she’d read about in a picture book in Mrs. Seymour’s library. It was amazing how fast the weather could change. Another gust sent leaves and small twigs up against her legs, and Boston danced around nervously. Still, she was loath to give away the closeness she felt at this moment. Wanting to keep his attention, she dropped a curtsy, then pivoted slowly. “How do I look in my new clothes?”
He stepped back and folded his arms, looking her up and down.
“Chance?”
“Like a rascally little boy.”
She laughed delightedly. He went over to his horse and lifted the stirrup, checking the cinch. “We should get going. Storms in Montana are nothing to fool with. They move fast and furious.”
A
lump of fright wedged in her belly when she realized he was waiting for her to mount the horse. She didn’t know how to ride. She liked horses well enough—but from the other side of a fence.
“I’d prefer to walk,” she said, taking in the animal’s large, muscular chest and hips. Boston tossed his head, his reddish brown coat glistening in what was left of the sunlight.
Chance’s hawk-like gaze zeroed in on her. She reconsidered.
“I’ll run,” she offered.
“No, you won’t.” His voice was stern. “Lightning has found smaller targets than you. Come on, we need to get back.” He held out his hand, not asking but telling.
She inched forward, her mouth suddenly dry. “I’ve never ridden.”
“Doesn’t hurt too much when you fall.”
“Chance!” She stepped back out of arm’s length.
“I’m just kiddin’. I won’t let anything happen. As a matter of fact, I’ll put you up front where you’ll be as safe as a babe in a carriage. You’ll have a nice view, too.” He ran a soothing hand down the neck of his agitated gelding.
The horse pawed the dirt, his nostrils wide.
“Boston is young, but as solid as they come.”
When Chance lifted a brow and drilled her with a no-nonsense, get-moving stare, Evie inched over to the side of the horse.
“Grab hold of the horn.”
“Chance, I don’t know. I read that horses know when—”
She gasped when his hands grasped her middle. Before she could say another word, he lifted her up and she instinctively swung her leg over the back of the horse. He plunked her in the middle of the saddle. The worn leather was slippery but more comfortable than she’d expected. It seemed like a mile down to where Dexter watched, tongue out, tail wagging.
What an unladylike position! What would Mrs. Seymour say?
“Chance.” Her voice wobbled. She swallowed down a lump of fear.
“Here I come, Evie. Scooch forward.”
“Horses can feel when a person is frightened, Chance! Well, I’m frightened now! I want to—”
“Stop jabbering. That’s the only thing Boston ain’t gonna like.” He slid his boot into the stirrup and swung aboard behind her, squishing their bodies intimately together and pushing her even farther forward in the saddle. She snapped her mouth closed and tightened her grasp on the horn.
The horse wheeled around easily, and they started toward the ranch. The wind had picked up and was now beating down the grass and bending the tops of trees. They slowly picked up speed until it felt as if they were flying. The ground raced past. The pounding hooves sent fear into her heart. I don’t want to fall!
“Look there,” Chance said close to her ear and pointed north.
The whole horizon was black. She couldn’t tell where the mountains ended and the sky began.
“It’s a bad one. I’m glad I found you when I did. You don’t want to get caught out in a storm like that.”
“Will we beat the rain?” she asked, nearly shouting to be heard over the storm.
“I hope so, but it may be close.”
“What about the calves?”
“They’ll stick close to their mamas. Can’t bring ’em in every time bad weather hits. Hold on now, we’re gonna gallop.”
***
Chance kept one possessive arm protectively wrapped around Evie’s middle as they galloped toward the ranch. He bent his head into the wind to keep his hat. This morning the crisp air had hinted of rain, but the intensity of the skyline had surprised him. Tonight would be a doozy. A good test for the house. And barn. A good test for Evie too, although he wouldn’t let her be hurt. This would be a trial run for when winter came.
Evie’s body, cuddled in front of him made him realize just how strongly he felt for her. Still, shame ate at his gut. How could he have thought she’d run off, just as his mother had long ago? He closed his eyes for a moment then released a long sigh, relaxing in the saddle and enjoying the powerful motion of his horse. The feel of his bride in his arms. He was tired of being angry with his mother. Maybe it was time to forgive and forget.
A large raindrop splashed the crown of Chance’s hat, bringing him back to reality. First a sprinkle, then smattering. Then, in one ominous moment, the sky darkened and the cloud above opened up and let go its burden, drenching them as they galloped over the land.
A bolt of lightning lit the sky. Evie stiffened, but if she’d made a noise he hadn’t been able to hear it above the pelting of the rain. The brilliant flash of light sizzled across the horizon from east to west, lighting everything around.
“Hold on,” he shouted close to her ear. She hunkered down close to the horse’s neck as they dashed over the slick earth. The deafening boom that followed rocked them, sending Boston bolting sideways in a burst of fright.
“Easy, now,” Chance crooned to the horse—and Evie—as he pressed Boston with his legs and collected some rein until he regained control of the animal.
The house appeared ahead out of the darkness. He slowed his horse to a lope, then slid to a halt not far from the porch steps.
He slung his leg over the saddle and stepped to the ground, reaching for Evie. She was drenched and shaking, her hands gripping the saddle horn with a vengeance.
“Come on, sweetheart.” When she wouldn’t let go, he carefully peeled her fingers away, pulled her off Boston and, in spite of the downpour, held her until she was steady on her feet.
Boston jerked the reins and the wind howled. Dexter ran up the porch and stood by the door shaking, wanting out of the storm.
Leaning close, he shouted, “Get into the house and into something dry. I’ll be back shortly.”
She gasped and gripped his shirt when another bolt of lightning split the blackness, lighting the sky above them. “Where’re you going?”
“The barn. I need to get the horses inside. Won’t take me long. Go on, now. Don’t worry about the fire. I’ll get it started as soon as I’m back.” He waited until she was up the steps and through the door, making sure she was safe.
It took a few minutes to get Boston unsaddled and rubbed down, and to bring in the other two spooked, wild-eyed horses. Chance slung an armful of hay into each stall to keep their minds off the storm.
He entered the house and shut the door, closing out the tempest, then stripped off his wet coat and hat, and hung them up. When he turned, his breath caught. Evie had changed into a formfitting black skirt that showed her slim figure much better than the denims he’d bought her, and a shirtwaist with a pretty lace collar and cuffs. Her feet were bare as she moved around the kitchen. Her hair, flowing loose and still a bit wet, glimmered in the soft light. She’d gussied up for him. Even after that wild ride. She, too, felt the specialness of tonight. The happiness in her eyes vied with the lantern glowing on the table.
She looked enchantingly beautiful, and confident. A band of love squeezed his chest, and he couldn’t look away.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“YOU BE sure to take off those muddy boots,” Evie said, trying for a playful tone. “I did the floors yesterday and don’t feel like another go-round this soon.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, toeing them off and setting them neatly next to hers.
Something in his tone drew her attention. She swallowed. Focusing, she laid five freshly washed potatoes on the cutting board and began cutting them up into thin slices—just as Ina had taught her. She’d already placed a skillet on to warm, with a large dab of butter melting inside. She fumbled the large knife and a slick potato chunk skittered across the floor in Chance’s direction.
He bent over, picked up the spud, and approached her slowly like a wolf zeroing in on its prey.
Their eyes met and held. Chance’s intensely sensual expression sent her heart skittering in her breast. There was no doubt what he was thinking.
“An escapee,” he said, his voice low and sinuous as he placed the piece of potato in her waiting hand. All the while his eyes wooed h
er insistently.
Unable to break the spell or calm her breathing, she felt her face flame. The driving rain buffeting the window echoed the tension flaying her insides, winding her nerves tight like a spring. His fingers lingered in her open palm, sending a burst of pleasure to the pit of her belly.
“You go ahead and clean up,” she whispered, thinking how handsome he looked with his rain-tousled hair over his forehead and the wet, chest-clinging shirt. “I’ve put a pitcher of warm water for you in the bedroom. Supper will be ready shortly.”
We are man and wife. There was nothing wrong or shameful with her racing, wanton thoughts, or her driving need. She wanted him. Tonight. Plain and simple. She prayed he felt the same.
Waiting any longer would be foolish when she ached to fall into his arms and give herself to him completely. She had known from the moment she’d said ‘I do’ that ‘she really, truly did’. She’d fallen in love with Chance! From his letters, his sincerity, his golden heart. Now that the problem between them had been worked through, she felt there was nothing in the world that would ever again get in the way of their happiness.
A scratching at the door broke the spell. “Dexter!” she cried. “Hurry. He’s probably scared to death.”
“Thought he came in with you?”
“He did. But then he wanted out when he realized you’d gone to the barn.”
Chance opened the door.
Dexter bolted in just as a flash of lightning brightened the front pasture, making her jump. A heart-stopping crack of thunder followed immediately, shaking the walls.
“Much too close for comfort.” Chance glanced out the window. “I’m glad I had the sense not to build under the tree.” He chuckled, then added, “But the storm’s moving fast. The worst will be past soon.”
Mail-Order Brides of the West: Evie (McCutcheon) Page 15
